All the Empty Places You Walk, Part 1
by Lynne the Canuck
Summary: Luke and Leia face the greatest of all crisis that threatens the very core of their self identities.


  
DISCLAIMER:  
  
This is a work of original fan fiction based on characters and situations created by George Lucas and copywrited to Lucasfilm, Ltd.. The intent of this work is for the entertainment of fans of the middle trilogy of the Star Wars saga, and is not intended to garner payment in any form. This work may be copied, linked, or re-posted as long as this disclaimer accompanies any such action and the author is notified in writing. Comments are welcomed, as long as they are civilized. Please do not respond with viruses, profanity, or any other destructive correspondence.  
  
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*WARNING*: some readers may find the content of this story offensive as it involves the death(s) of one or more main characters. I ask that any readers who might find such a situation upsetting not read any further. You have been advised.  
  
STAR WARS: All the Empty Places You Walk  
by: Lynne Freels  
www.westies.com  
  
... We followed footpaths in the forest  
To see what we'd find  
You told me all your darkest secrets  
And I told you mine  
The words you spoke that day were poetry  
And I saw in you what no one else could see  
  
... You wouldn't let them drag you under  
Or steal that hunger from your eyes  
And I knew even then, when I met you again  
There'd be no compromise  
  
... But in your eyes I see that same old flame  
That brilliant spirit never to be tamed  
It still remains  
  
Strong rivers may flow  
Big winds are sure to blow  
Still I have always known  
Nothing would change you  
You never let go  
  
-- Lawrence Gowan  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
PROLOGUE  
  
  
  
  
The sky reflected the golden tinge of the setting sun. Squinting, she stared at the location where she saw the last flicker of the ship before it made the jump to hyperspace. Any further trace of it was, of course, non-existent, but she could not bring herself to turn away. He would live, she knew, and fulfill the destiny that the General described. That thought did little to quell the feeling that she had betrayed her son by abandoning him to the callousness of Fate.  
Tears blurred her sight and she lost track of the site she had been concentrating on. She could not accept the fact that she would never see her son again.  
A small cry from inside intruded on her thoughts. She could not give comfort or soothe the suffering she had condemned her children to endure. She could not stop the anguish that had overwhelmed her for so long. She cried for her life that could have been, but wasn't; for the oblivion of lost innocence; and for the despair that was impotent rage. All was in ruins within her. There was nothing left, but a hollow sheath.  
  
  
48 years later ...  
  
  
CHAPTER ONE  
  
It was late into the night, and the day had been uneventful. Luke Skywalker lay on his side, curled up comfortably, staring at the wall of his bedroom. He didn't want to use Jedi exercises to induce sleep. He kept shifting through his emotions and decided to let the agitation take its course.  
In the past few months, that old sense of being an outsider in a room full of friends had forced its way to the forefront of Luke's thoughts. Events from years ago presented themselves to him as if they were happening in the present. They were not real, of course, but their effects on him were just as intense as if he were experiencing them for the first time. He had volunteered for assignments on behalf of the New Republic that would take him from the Jedi Academy, where his niece and nephews were now enrolled; or from Coruscant, where even the company of his sister and brother-in-law sometimes disturbed a part of him. The sound of his first teacher's voice echoed up. "Trust your feelings ..." Ben had said. At the time, he had been racing down the trench of the Empire's first Death Star, but that admonition was applicable in any circumstance. Lately, he had been trying to ignore or escape what he felt.   
Another sleepless night seemed to be in store. Sighing, he got up and dressed. He made himself a cup of hot broth, and walked up to the upper common open area just below the palace viewing platform. The smells and lights of the city at night sometimes helped him to either concentrate or to clear his mind. He wasn't sure which he would need this time, though. As he walked, he saw that the moon brides he planted yesterday were blooming in the far corner of the garden he and Anakin had set up years ago. He smiled at the memory.  
It had taken twice as long as it should have to establish. Luke had spent half of the time keeping a watchful eye and hand on his youngest nephew, who delighted in testing his uncle's nerves and patience by handling potentially dangerous tools, and by constantly running with them to the edge of the roof, throwing the less interesting ones over the side. Most of the garden had been completed while Anakin napped. Still, Luke enjoyed the time he spent watching the children grow up. The twins were now the same age he was when he first met Leia. In all that time, he could never quell the feeling that their separation throughout childhood robbed him of something essential. He took a few deep breaths of the scented, cool air and finally sat on a bench amongst the shadows of a grove.  
The garden had been Winter's idea. Since most of his adolescence had been spent dreaming of ways to leave the farm on Tatooine, Luke wasn't enthusiastic about the suggestion. It wasn't moisture farming, but gardening was close enough to qualify under the general heading of agriculture. However, once he stuck his hands in the dirt, he was pleased to discover it was very relaxing. The connection between the plants and him reinforced the sublime simplicity of basic existence. Life wasn't always the exhilarating maintenance of universal freedom. "I don't know." He thought. "Maybe I'm reading too much into it." Perhaps, though, he did have the temperament for farming. Well, part-time at least.  
After a few sips, the broth had turned cold. He emptied what remained in the cup around the base of the tree in front of him, and as he straightened was shocked to find himself crying uncontrollably. A series of emotions crashed through him. He felt too tired to either analyse or stop them.   
He sensed Leia's presence approaching the garden. With an effort, he tried to quell the flow of tears, but the despair and sadness within him were too powerful to push away anymore. She was awakened because of him; hiding his feelings from her now would be pointless. Silently, she sat down next to him.  
He needed someone to talk to. He needed -- with increased intensity, he wept as he held on to her; his weary head resting on her shoulder.  
"It's all right, Luke. I'm here now." She stroked his hair, soothingly.  
A small part of his mind wondered if this was how he was comforted as an infant by his real mother. He missed her terribly right now. He'd had decades to imagine his mother: what she looked like, her personality, her desires, her dreams. He couldn't place himself in the position she was forced into in the end -- that of having to abandon her children.  
His thoughts turned to the people who had raised him. His uncle had always been aloof, as if raising someone else's child had been an unwilling chore put upon him. His aunt was kindly enough, but he felt he could never talk to her candidly. He barely began training with Ben Kenobi, and later with Yoda, before they died. He only knew his father for those few minutes as he lay moribund in his son's arms. He never knew his mother. Every parent-figure had abandoned him before he had the chance to make them a part of his life.  
"I feel so alone." He said softly.  
"We're all here for you. You shouldn't let yourself get to this stage before you feel you can talk to either Han or me."  
"No. That's not it." He told her, and sat back. "You had Bail. You have Winter. You have Han and the kids!"  
"Luke, I can't ---"   
He coughed, and with a negative wave of his hands he stopped her protest.   
"I want a family of my own." He exclaimed. "I want to fall in love again. I don't care if I get hurt in the process. I want to love someone. I want to be loved! " His voice caught and he stood. He was vaguely amazed at what he was saying. "That would be my greatest legacy; to really share all that I am with another, to nurture a child of my own. I have so much to give ... I don't like going home to an empty suite. I don't want to end alone!"  
Sudden embarrassment of his soul's transparency, laid bare more to himself than to Leia, confused him. He just proclaimed his unwillingness to live out his life in solitude, yet all he wanted to do right now was run from Leia and everyone else he knew. But that's what he'd been doing; running from himself. He had been staring at the walkway. Now, he looked up into his sister's eyes.  
"I've been thinking about this for a long time. I know people are uncomfortable around me. I can almost visualise what they see me as: a solitary, abstruse, figure of myth; a living legend of the Rebellion. This 'other person' invades my mind every time I go out in public." He sighed.   
"I don't know if that's what makes up this barrier that separates what I am and all I've ever wanted to be. I mean, what if I don't measure up to the great Jedi Master and Hero of the Rebellion everyone thinks I am? Callista knew nothing of me before the Eye of Palpatine incident. I had nothing to compete against."  
He sat down again. "That's so ridiculous, isn't it? To be overwhelmed by your own image. But it exists, nevertheless. The mythic hero is as much a part of me as the gardening hobbyist, but it's difficult to track down. I mean, what aspects of myself belong to it? Does it appear in normal, mundane life? Is the way I hold a hydrospanner any different from someone else?" He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He shivered with the chill of the night wind, although his face still felt hot.  
Leia didn't know what to say. Love wasn't something that you could train for and then pass on knowledge of the techniques to others. It simply either found you or passed you by. She firmly believed this.  
It was difficult to see her brother in such pain. In the free time they had before sleep, Han and she had occasionally discussed Luke's quiet and distancing moods. They had both agreed that it stemmed from loneliness, but Han's recommendation, that the kid should get married, was easier said than done. She had never been comfortable enough to broach the subject in any detail with Luke; and now, here she stood frantically trying to think of something that would ease his anxiety. He was reaching to her for help, but she felt helpless.   
"I'm sorry." He was saying. "I didn't mean to push you into a corner with all this", and made a circular motion with his fingers.  
"I'm always here if you need me. I just don't know what to say." The words sounded small and inadequate. Before he could slam that emotional shield down, though, she put her arms around his waist and pulled him to her. She felt his answering embrace and sensed an easing of his mind. After a while, she looked at his face, and chose an approach that would take a different course.   
"I know that you tend to withdraw into yourself when you're troubled about something or feel threatened, but you can't do that in a relationship. It puts a barrier between you and the person you love. It also makes you appear unapproachable." She might as well plunge on, she thought. He may not like what she was saying but he needed to hear it. "If what you said about not caring if you get hurt in the process is true, then you must open yourself to exposure. There's a good chance you'll experience the pain you felt for Callista, but if you don't, you'll never allow the possibility of love to exist within you."  
He didn't say anything. He just sat silently for a time. Then, lowering his eyes, he nodded. "How do you go on day after day knowing that Han or the kids could possibly die because of who you are?"  
"You can't constantly think of that. You couldn't possibly function on a day to day basis if you did." She answered. "You take what precautions you can, and then you just have to go on with life."  
"I know I don't have your strength. I never have." He said quietly.  
"Luke, you can only be yourself. Don't try to present what you think others want to see in you." She said, as she warmed him by rubbing his arms.  
"Be true to yourself, right?" He remarked. "What if I don't know what that self really is?"  
Leia studied him for a moment. It was amazing how there seemed to be two distinct versions of him. He wore the tired mask of the preternatural Jedi Master Skywalker in public, but in the brief time she could spare to spend with him, the effort of maintaining an indiscernible expression proved too taxing and broke to reveal a very human Luke. "You need to take the time to find out where you stand within yourself at this point in your life. You need to do this before you can have a lasting and rewarding relationship. The Academy is self-sufficient. The galaxy will still be here when you're ready." Leia smiled at him. "Come on. Let's get you out of the cold."  
He offered a half hearted smile in return. "Yeah. Any suggestions?"  
She wasn't quite sure if he meant methodology or location, or if he was even serious. "Maybe this gardening thing is pointing in the right direction. Try doing something you've never considered before. Something pleasurable for its own sake, then work your way through from there. I don't think the usual -- endurance under prolonged exertion -- will help you at this stage."  
Changing the subject to deaden his discomfort, Luke began, "You know, I went to see that show about the Rebellion the other day. It was a lot better than I expected."  
"I haven't really been interested in seeing it." Leia said. "I've already lived through it once, I don't want to do it again."  
"Oh, I don't know. I think you would have liked it." He continued. "Personally, I would have loved to have been listening to that music while all that stuff was going on. The main theme was particularly stirring. I also liked the actor they found to play me. He really put his heart into the part. Even looks like me." He gave her mischievous look, "Are you sure we aren't triplets?"  
Leia's face scrunched up in exaggerated shock. "I certainly hope there are only two of us. One sibling is all I can handle."  
"Yeah, right. Anyway, the story is, of course, more metaphysical than biographic. I guess as long as it strikes a cord with people, I'll forever be this young idealist naively taking on the universe." He laughed. "Some epitaph!"  
"Believe me," she retorted, "when you're around politicians with alternate agendas all day long, you tend to snatch any sign of genuine idealism you can find. It restores your faith in others."  
They had walked back to her suite. He thanked her and kissed her good-night. He had only taken a few steps back down the hall when Leia called to him.   
"Don't be out of touch with us, Luke. I need to know you're all right from time to time."  
"Hey, it's me!" He teased, echoing a favourite Hanism.  
"This is serious! Half the time any of us thinks they're going on a vacation or straightforward, boring mission, something cataclysmic invariably happens. Forget the New Republic, I need you. Your friends need you.  
"Take Artoo with you," she cautioned. "Not that you're planning to drift in between star systems again," recalling his account of his first escape from the trap Grand Admiral Thrawn had set for him, "but if your ship breaks down on some planet without tech facilities, at least you'll have some help."   
She keyed the entry code to the suite. Before entering, she looked slyly at him.   
"Come by before you leave, and I'll pack a lunch for you."  
  
Leia watched him enter his suite, and stood for a moment in the empty corridor. Her mood darkened as she considered her own words. They were as much for herself as they were for Luke. She was comfortably idle in her patterned life. The thought of embarking on an untried course at this point would be too ... inappropriate. Besides, she knew who she was. She was too old to allow any doubts. Still, in some ways, she envied Luke's freedom. Without responsibilities to anyone or anything else, he could withdraw to grapple with his Self.  
A sentry came around the far corner, and she acknowledged him with a nod. Entering the Solo household, she got a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror. Silks flowed lightly against her body in the breeze from the recycling vents. While the loose braid still maintained its shape, a frenzy of loose hair haloed her head. She looked eccentric. Maybe she was. Why else would she suffocate herself in the numbing routine her life had turned into? Was this all there was?  
  
Back in his suite, Luke was deep in thought. However termed, a vacation or official assignment, wasn't that still running? "Why is this happening now?" He thought. If he was this unsure of himself, perhaps his previous self-confidence was a deception. How much this influenced any decision he made was unnerving. He could have jeopardised the whole Jedi Project and with it, the security of the New Republic. When had he broken from himself?  
"I see no way ... no way ... it's not clear ... uncertain ..." he murmured.  
Shadows of rain hitting the window hung on the wall. It seemed as though it always rained on Coruscant.  
Sitting at the comm station, he keyed in a request for a residential listing in a forty-five kilometre radius surrounding Tosche Station on Tatooine. Not surprised, but at the same time a little disappointed, he activated a selection. The face that peered back at him seemed weathered and old beyond his years. Luke almost didn't recognise him. "Hello, Fixer." He said.  
"Do I know ..." the other stopped. "Wormie? I -- I mean Luke! It is you." Fixer stumbled.   
"Have I changed that much? If I'm interrupting anything, I can call back." Luke started to say. Although, life was so boring on his home planet, he couldn't imagine he interrupted much.  
"Oh, no! Hey, uh ... what've you been up to these days? No big battles, eh?"   
His old friend radiated an disquieting resentment. Luke started to question why he had contacted Fixer in the first place. "Not lately. How's Camie?"  
"She's fine. Fine." Fixer replied. "Keeps bothering me about getting a new landspeeder, like maybe one of those DP27's." He added. He felt foolish as soon as the words left his mouth. The wide-eyed dreamer he knew was now a Jedi Master and a pilot in the New Republic, who had access to the latest in technology. Why would he even care about the latest landspeeder models. "Uh, Luke. I know it was a long time ago, but I didn't have the chance to say I was sorry to hear about your Aunt and Uncle."  
"A lot's happened since then. But thanks, Fixer." Luke wanted to end this conversation. Now. "Well, I just wanted to say hi. Tell Camie I'm sorry I missed her."  
"Sure. Nice to hear from you." And the screen went blank. It was obvious that Luke's call was not entirely welcome.  
He cleared his throat and keyed in an access code. A nervous young clerk at the Launch Yards took his order for a rental yacht and scheduled a departure time. Now all he had to do was figure out where he was going.  
  
A short while later, while waiting in a holding pattern for system exit clearance, he altered his course in the navicomputer. If his own past didn't hold the answers, perhaps antiquity did. Then, the surreal patterns of hyper-space took hold and guided the ship through eternal night.  
  
  
  
CHAPTER TWO  
  
Awakened by the sweetest of music, a woman stepped outside her unassuming dwelling. The sound outshone the pale echoes of the surrounding life. The music echoed longingly in her mind as she searched the early dawn sky for the source. The craft halted its course, and it hung for a moment in the sky like a star. Enchanted, the woman followed its path as it descended toward the ruins.  
She eased nearer to the landing site and caught her breath. In front of the craft, bathed in its silvery lights, stood a man with the face of an angel.  
Luke stood still. There was something powerfully enticing emanating through the Force that was not quantifiable. He had never experienced this sensation, and wondered at its intensity. Presently, a young woman emerged from the thick woods and stopped before him. Her presence seemed to bombard all his senses, overwhelming him. Vaguely, he knew he was trembling.  
Mythra was startled by the man's eyes. They were the colour of the Spring's sky, and held within them an incredible depth that she felt she could fall into forever. As she drank from the song within him, she saw it flicker.  
"Please, stop." He whispered.  
From the bottom of the ramp, Artoo gave a loud warning whistle. The sound seemed to break through the strange connection between the two humans. Luke sat down on a section of the ruins, breathing shallowly.  
"Here, let me help you." The woman said, and offered her hand.   
Reason told him he ought to be wary of her, but something insisted he follow his instincts without rationalising. Reaching up, he clasped her outstretched hand. With a jolt, he felt himself altering. There was no other way he could describe it. Everything changed. He found himself staring at her and through her to the trees beyond, and the ruins around them. At once, he existed outside time, and saw the inhabitants of the city within its imposing structures. He breathed in the strong scent of wild flowers that encroached over the ruins. He heard an infant crying in the distance. These sensations gradually lessened before completely overwhelming him, and settled into linear time.   
Without effort, everything he perceived was Force-enhanced. It was as if it was natural to experience life thus. He laughed with the ecstasy of it. Without thinking, he embraced the woman in a response of gratitude and was delighted when she responded in kind. Yet, for a fleeting moment, he thought he sensed an element of desperation or profound expectation in her ...  
  
In the days that followed, he helped Mythra with the tasks that provided for basic existence, and by night would tell her of his adventures by the fire light. It was a simple life that she led; however, it never degenerated into the mundane. This time was for him and he would share it with Mythra.  
  
  
CHAPTER THREE  
  
The call to order was again sounded in the Senate, and gradually the cacophony of voices died down to a subdued rumbling. The senator from Gevan was acknowledged.  
"We cannot allow ourselves to project the image of a new imperial regime by continually intervening in the internal conflicts of non-aligned systems. We'll appear paranoid and unassured; a despotic threat, to any world considering membership in the Republic."  
Several voices rose in grand argument over this opinion. Councillor Tevv, one of the original supporters of the Rebellion against Palpatine's autocracy, fought for recognition. "Sir, have you not learned from the past? No matter how small the violent power of one or two worlds appear, ruthless invasion of another people cannot be tolerated. We must resolve that such dark forces that rose with the Empire never again wield the power that would cramp and hinder the ethics of tolerance, freedom, and progressive destiny that this government represents. And the only way to enforce this resolve is through military might.  
"We must add to this might the power of our ideals, as we did all through the Rebellion. We have vowed ourselves to the struggle of life and honour. Our pledge must continue to the end."  
"We cannot let ourselves be drawn into theoretical squabbles that do not pose a direct threat to this administration and its members." Objected the Gevanian. "We don't have the resources to spare to secure the entire galaxy from evil!"  
Trying to contain his frustration, Councillor Tevv pressed his point. "Whatever the cost, we must not allow any world to succumb to servitude and shame. We must outlive the menace of tyranny, aiding each other to the utmost of our combined strength."  
The Bothan Senator rose and waited patiently for acknowledgement. He turned slowly to face Tevv. "Those words are well and good, but belong to the realm of idealistic virtue, and not to the realities of practicality. If we continue to do this -- this enforcing of our ideas onto other cultures -- aren't we ourselves becoming tyrants? Won't another Rebellion rise up against us in turn, when we become blinded by the seduction of such power?" He paused. "We have sacrificed too many of our children for too long. The war is over. Its horrors are past. Let us move on."  
"Are you suggesting, Senator," Admiral Ackbar interjected, "that we make the same mistakes as the Old Republic? The dignity of civilised progress must not be blotted out anywhere. We are far enough removed from barbarism to control it. We must realise what is actually happening to these worlds that cry out for our help, which you seem so eager to dismiss to their own devices. Our efforts on this account are the sole guarantee of peace."  
Holding his arm up to stop the Bothan's objection, Ackbar concluded, "To ignore the imperative resistance to unwarranted aggression is to invite its diseased growth until it reaches our borders, and we, paralysed by our lack of foresight and preparation, succumb to its darkness.  
"Above all, I will not again allow the realisation of what was said by a low-ranking stormtrooper as my world was being conquered ..." he stopped as painful memories of the Empire's carnage resurfaced. "When asked why they did this, he replied, 'You are weak. We are strong.'"  
  
Hours later, with a slight majority, the motion ruled in favour of sending an official task force of moderate size to Rasianar in the independent system of Uode.   
  
The desperate call for help had been sent by Lando Calrissian. He had dropped by Coruscant a few weeks previously to scam up investment capital for a preliminary survey of Rasianar. Han had almost fallen on the floor as he doubled over, laughing. Lando, non-plussed, took a sip of Han's private reserve, and waited. He'd been through this before. Many times.  
When Han could catch his breath, he said, "Rasianar?! Are you kidding?!"   
"No. Why not? No one's ever taken the spice legends seriously enough to see if they really are based on something real --"  
"Yeah," Han interrupted, "there's a reason for that: it doesn't exist! And besides, even if you could haul off something worth selling from that hunk of rock, the costs of transporting it anywhere near a market wouldn't make up for the effort involved! You'll never sell anything to that weird group of isolationists -- even if they're still there."  
Lando favoured his old smuggling buddy with his best disarming smile and suave demeanour. "You know me, Han. I could con a telepath out of her life's savings."  
"Good thing I know you better. Look, take my advise: forget it. Rasianar's in the middle of nowhere. You might as well open your money bag to the winds on Bespin. Oh, wait. You already did that."  
The friendly bantering continued on, with neither one convincing the other he was right. Finally, the conversation drifted into reminiscences and they finished off the night at a local pub. Lando had conned some poor saps out of some money and was eager to leave Capital City before they changed their mind.  
Han saw his friend off, then went back to the suite. Stealthily, he slipped beneath the bed covers. He was just congratulating himself on not disturbing his wife and having to explain to her where he'd been, when she rolled over.  
"Han, you're about as sneaky as a herd of Tauntauns: STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! It's a wonder you were ever a smuggler."  
"I always did prefer a straight fight. Sorry I woke you up."  
"That's all right." She smiled at him in the darkness, "Did you have fun with Lando?"  
I just want to go to sleep, he said to himself. "Yeah. He's off on another crazy get rich quick scheme."  
Leia chuckled. "What else is new? Oh, well. One of these days, he'll surprise us all."   
She leaned over and kissed him. "Good night, Sweetheart."  
"Good night, Princess." Wow, he thought, that was easy.  
  
Han Solo sat solemnly in the war room as tactics were discussed. He had pressed for reinstatement as General because of the official nature of the venture, but also because he wanted to get his friend off Rasianar alive and he needed control over the task force to do so. Not that that would have stopped him from going unofficially. He was impulsive, and knew it; but his recklessness got him out of scrapes more than it got him into. He couldn't sit there waiting for the Senate to make up its mind when the right thing to do was so blatantly obvious.   
His status was official, though. The reinstatement was granted, on the basis of Han's on-going service on behalf of the New Republic, although in his mind every scratch on the Falcon in the past twenty years was to rescue someone he cared for from the latest band of galactic bullies. He still didn't want to believe in 'causes'. He believed in himself, his family, and his friends. People moved events, not idealism.  
The fragmented transmission Lando sent was grim and uninformative. They would be going in blind.  
"Has Intelligence reported anything useful about what's going on in that sector?" He turned to face the grizzled, heavy-set man diagonally across from him.  
"We sent in an Operative as soon as we got the transmission. Other than an approach notification, we've received no word on the situation."  
"Great." Han said sarcastically. "So we don't know who attacked."  
"If Rasianar was attacked," amended the NRI agent defensively. "Calrissian's distress message left a whole lot of variables. That blast heard at the end could have been any number of things. It only proves that something happened to his ship, not necessarily to the planet."  
"That ship was suppose to be on that planet! And my friend was in it!" Han menaced, but then stopped himself. There wasn't time to argue, but he couln't let it drop either. "Obviously, the Senate thinks the Rasianar Isolationists were the target, or we wouldn't be risking our butts, would we?"   
He turned to the rest of the group. "All right. Let's assume that Rasianar was fired upon. It's possible the attackers stuck around for whatever it is they're after. I don't want any surprises meeting us when we jump out of hyperspace, so we'll sneak in, real quiet-like."   
No one said anything. These guys were veterans of too many battles and knew what Han had planned. A holo-map of the Uode System and surrounding space rotated slowly in the centre of the table. Han pointed to a place in empty space. "Half the force will come into real space here, in Sector 37. That'll be Blue Flight One through Four and the Falcon. The rest of you'll take a transport with you and leave three hours ahead of Second Group and drop out on the other side here, in Sector 28. It's hopefully far enough away that you won't be detected. Make discrete sweeps of any communications you can, and try to get back to us about anything we need to know before we drop out. Transmit on Comm Band Beta. If there's jamming going on, stay in a holding pattern until the three hours difference has run out, then rendezvous with us in 37."  
He stopped, then added, "I don't want this mission to be any more complex than it has to be. Let's get in, pick-up the survivors, and get out. Any information we get about who attacked Rasianar, and why, is our secondary objective. One squadron ain't going to stop what probably is a fleet of some kind. Defend yourselves as necessary, but try not to engage them. We'll take care of the larger problem when we have the fire power to back us up. Anyone want to add anything?"  
No one did. They'd all run this type of mission before. "O.K.. First Group will leave in two hours. Stay sharp."  
  
  
CHAPTER FOUR  
  
Her quiet joy in Luke's companionship often quickened his heart, by which he now lived. The nobility of her aspect, the magic of her slightest gesture, the lure of her voice -- all these things transfixed him unalterably through the immeasurable time he spent in her company. In her mind, he found a lasting peace he had never attained. Touching it, he insatiably craved more. With all that he was, he loved her. It felt as though life, itself, held him in a gentle hand.  
The forest encapsulating them glowed with its own life, which he saw now in wondrous composition for the first time through the Force. It illuminated every detail of the Beloved before him. She was, he thought, his completion. His very soul seemed to vibrate in tune with hers. He brushed the hair from her face, and kissed her eyelids and cheeks. Her mouth sought his, drawing him within her, and filling the empty places she found in him.  
Suddenly, Luke's senses exploded as everything was forced into prominence at the same time. The vivid intensity crashed through him, overwhelming and knocking the breath out of him. It felt as though he were falling into a great chasm. Just as swiftly, the sensations stopped. He was kneeling on the grass, coughing uncontrollably. His whole body felt enflamed. Mythra's hands were gripping his arms.  
"I'm all right." He assured her when the fit had passed, but the distress they both felt did not leave her features.  
Gingerly, she pulled his head to rest on her chest. Taking a calming breath, she began to lightly stroke his hair. He listened for a while to the steady beat of her heart. Gradually, his muscles relaxed, and he closed his eyes. The strain drained from his face as he dropped into a deep sleep.  
  
He arose from dreams of her, to find her sleeping beside him. No memory existed of the Force overload during the night. Cautiously, so as not to disturb her, he stood and walked a short distance out of hearing range.  
Smiling, he removed the comlink from his tunic and tapped into the yacht's communications relay. It was time again to check in with Leia.  
  
The door to her suite slipped closed behind her, and Leia pressed her shoulders back to ease the aching muscles in her upper back.  
"Hi, Mom!" Came a voice from the next room.  
"Hi, back." She said as she peered from the hallway at her youngest child.  
"Uncle Luke sent a message." Anakin wished it was he who got to stay at the Jedi Academy on Yavin 4 instead of his siblings. It was awkward taking care of his mother, as his uncle instructed him to do. Besides, she seemed to be doing all right.  
"What are you doing reading my mail?" She said sternly. "Where's Winter, anyway?"  
"She got a call. She felt concerned when she left." Anakin answered distractedly.  
Leia thought this was very unusual behaviour from Winter. She had seen her and the children through a lot of crisis in the past. That a comm call could evoke such a reaction from her Aide's normally placid nature gave Leia a very bad feeling about it. She keyed up Luke's message and smiled at the content: 'Why are you spending so much time in front of the comm station? Spend some time with your son!' His other messages over the past few months were not so wordy: 'I'm fine.' Was followed by, 'I'm still fine.' With the best from last month, 'See previous message.' Well, at least he kept his promise to her to keep in touch; although, that wasn't quite what she had had in mind.  
"Your Highness," said a voice behind her.  
Leia jumped in her seat. "Winter! Where were you? What's happening?"  
"I'm sorry to have distressed you. Central Communications did not want to intrude on the closed session of the Senate and thought it best to contact you through me." The older woman glanced significantly at Anakin.  
"Uh, would you excuse us for a few minutes? We need to talk business." As an after-thought, she added, "Try the meditation exercises Luke taught you so you're not tempted to tap in."  
Anakin shot her his best look of complete innocence, one that would someday melt many hearts, and closed the door behind him.  
Leia immediately turned with apprehension to Winter. "It's Han, isn't it?"  
"Yes, Princess. All contact with the Uode System has ceased. Communications is in the process of determining if this is due to a technical malfunction, but the unofficial conclusion is that the contact was severed at the other end."  
Even while a growing dread smothered her emotions, Leia's reason ran through tactical scenarios. "I'm going to see if I can convince the Council to release some ships from their current assignments, although I think I'll be wasting my words."   
She turned back to the communications terminal to request the origin of Luke's messages and then merge the result into a navigational chart. "Maybe some of Han's rashness is rubbing off on me, but I feel compelled to act. Time is imperative." Looking at the data chip the unit spit out at her she crinkled her nose, "Lavlih? Never heard of it."  
  
Sipping the cool rymple juice, Leia pushed aside the guilty feelings she harboured as she gazed at Mon Mothma over the rim of the glass. Leia's predecessor as the Head of State of the New Republic had occasionally stepped into her old robes when Leia's official duties called her off-world for extended periods of time. Mon Mothma was always accommodating, but every time she came out of retirement, the duties of office took a great toll on her. She had never recovered completely from the assassination attempt, years ago.  
"This mission I've assigned myself may be selfish in appearance, and it is to a certain extent," Leia admitted, "but there's more going on in the Uode System than we can deduce from Lando's transmission. The NRI Agent's and Han's communiqués were just navigational approach notifications. Then, they were cut off. Useless."  
"Do you think it's more than an isolated situation?"  
"I'm not positive of course, but from the imposed silence of our task force, the first implication is that someone doesn't want us snooping around out there. We won't know why until someone goes out to investigate and report back."  
Mon Mothma leaned forward across the table. "And do you think that you, by yourself, can accomplish that mission when a suped-up freighter and an entire A-Wing squadron failed?"  
Leia sighed. "The Council cannot release anything to me until next week. By then, Han could be dead and we might find ourselves unprepared for a new security threat. I must act -- swiftly. The best I can do is to take Luke with me, and use all those years of guerrilla warfare skills to my advantage until Rogue Flight and the dreadnoughts can get to us."  
The other favoured Leia with a wry smile. "I wanted to be certain you weren't being reckless."  
Leia wasn't sure if Mon Mothma was being sarcastic or honest.  
  
  
CHAPTER FIVE  
  
The planet was unremarkable both in appearance and in sensor readings. Setting her ship down next to Luke's, Leia started on foot in the direction of her brother's presence.   
That familiar touch on her mind seemed, at the same time, different. She couldn't precisely say how. There was no doubt it was Luke, but there was something else there -- great muted power, or an extension of a part of him outside of his physical being, but there was also an absorbing tranquillity -- it was impossible to define.  
"Hi, Leia." His voice drifted from the shadows of the tree beside her.  
"Luke! I'm sorry I intruded on your privacy right now, but I need your help."  
"I know." He said quietly, and stepped into the light. His appearance stunned her. He had lost too much weight so that his tunic hung on his body. His cheek bones were more prominent and gave his eyes a sunken quality. He looked pale, tired, and frighteningly frail.  
"What's happening to you?" She whispered.  
"Something wonderful."  
  
"I've got to get you off this planet."  
"Yes, but not to a medical centre, as you have planned." He replied. "Han's life will be determined by your next decision."  
Furious, Leia shouted, "What about yours, Luke?! Have you seen what you look like?" How could she choose between the lives of her husband and brother? Why did Luke force her into this situation, when she needed all her attention on the task of anticipating the dangers ahead?   
She let the anger cascade out of her. "How could you let yourself get to this point without doing something about it? How could you lie to me all this time, when you obviously were not 'fine'?!"  
"I'm sorry." He said. "It's progressed so rapidly that I wanted to protect you, or maybe avoid you. I don't know. What I am convinced of, though, is that the Force is guiding me in this. I must see it to its conclusion."  
"What if it's guiding you to your grave?" She countered.  
Recalling Yoda's dying words to him, he repeated, "Death is the way of things ... the way of the Force." His eyes filled with weary compassion.   
"Leia, I'm finally at peace with myself."  
They had walked back to her ship. At the bottom of the ramp, she turned to look at him. "I don't accept the idea of destiny. Your fate is your own doing."  
Artoo had rolled up the ramp from the adjacent yacht and closed the hatch behind them. Luke leaned against the frame. "I don't want to argue with you. I'm tired. I'll go into a Jedi Healing Trance after we raise ship. I'll be fine."  
Anguish replaced what was left of the anger she'd been feeling. "I wish I could trust you on that."  
Saying nothing further, she punched in co-ordinates in the navigational computer. As they jumped into hyperspace, Luke unbuckled himself from the co-pilot's chair and lay down on a cot in the back of the cockpit.   
"I've given my word to someone that I would return to Lavlih once this mission is over. You must give me your promise that you'll take me back."  
The request startled Leia. "Who is this person?"  
"A resident of the planet."  
"What species?"  
"I'm pretty sure she's human."  
She? Walking back to the cot, Leia sat on its edge. "Luke, I picked up nothing humanoid on my scanners except you. What's going on?"  
"Mythra is very strong in the Force, but in a manner I've never heard of before. It's possible she could hide herself, the way Yoda and Ben did." Meeting her eyes, he continued in a soft voice, "I'm in love with her."  
Leia's mouth dropped open. "Is there any other surprises you have for me? Luke, this woman could be the cause of your illness! I mean, what is she doing hiding by herself in the middle of nowhere?"  
Luke suddenly realised, "You don't know! Leia, I've been sick for some time now; long before I came here. We can usually sense each other so accurately, I just assumed you knew."  
She stared at him in shock.  
"That's why I was so upset about not having a family of my own when we talked on the palace roof that last night on Coruscant. I want so desperately to experience the greatest joy in life, and to leave something of myself behind before I die."  
"How long?" She asked, as if whispering would keep Mortality in ignorance.  
He looked away for a moment before speaking. "Soon. It's consuming me. The medics say my Jedi abilities will probably extend the time I have left and quell the symptoms more that average, but --" he trailed off, and grimaced. He couldn't maintain control much longer. He clasped her hand to comfort her, but instead, his touch sent a wave of his pain and exhaustion through her. The sensation was overwhelming.   
Finding her voice, she said hoarsely, "Luke, let go."  
His hand dropped limply to the cot. "Please," he gasped, "promise me you'll take me back to Mythra."  
She didn't want to deny him happiness, but at the same time, she didn't trust this woman. Since there was nothing Leia could do to save her brother, she would protect and care for him as long as possible.  
He nodded weakly in acquiescence at her thoughts. Clearing the heaviness from his chest, he grabbed a cloth to wipe away the liquid he coughed up. There was a trace amount of blood in it, this time. He settled back down on the cot and closed his eyes. Opening himself to the Force, he let its healing waves replenish him.  
  
Slowly, Luke came out of the depths of the catalepsy. At first, he felt disoriented, but as the last wisps of the trance dissipated, everything resolved into clarity. A mild echo of a head ache remained.   
"Master Luke!" Exclaimed a prissy voice from the co-pilot's seat. "Are you still feeling ill, sir? Artoo and I have been quite worried about you, to say nothing about Mistress Leia." A short beep of confirmation came from Artoo, who was piloting the ship.  
"I'm much better, Threepio. Thanks." Well, he did feel more energetic. Right now, he was relieved it was the protocol droid who observed him and not his sister. "Uh, where is Leia?"  
"She went to the common area to dine. If I may suggest, sir, you might want to do the same."  
Luke smiled. Sometimes, Threepio's fussing could be endearing. "Good idea."  
  
As the door closed behind him, Artoo nattered away to his golden counterpart.  
"Well, I don't like all this secrecy either. And, yes, I have located an appropriate medical centre, as Mistress Leia instructed. What do you think I've been doing all this time?" Threepio said indignantly.  
Artoo gave a series of derogatory beeps, ending in a rather rude sounding noise. "Oh, really! At least I've done something that may help Master Luke. What were you doing for him all those months on Lavlih?"  
  
Leia couldn't eat. She could not accept the fact that Luke was dying. Why would this one death devastate her more than those of the soldiers she had ordered to their end, or the billions on Alderaan, including her adoptive father, who were obliterated in an instant? Why did she have the droids looking for facilities that offered alternative medical treatments, when she knew no miracle would manifest itself and make everything all better.  
She finally allowed that she had, indeed, been aware that her twin was unwell. Her desire to deny it had neatly tucked away all manifestations of his symptoms in a deep blackness in her mind. Toward the end of his stay on Coruscant he experienced frequent fevers, and muted constant coughing urges behind a cloth. She could also sometimes sense pain in his chest. She had told herself that he was probably stressed or anxious about something, or he had caught a common virus.  
"It can't end like this."  
"I wish I could console you better." Luke said from behind her.   
Startled, Leia jumped in her seat. Her nerves had not been good lately. Without thinking, she said, "When I look at Jacen and Jaina, I see what you and I could have had in all those years that were stolen from us because Father was weak." Where was this coming from? "They will have each other their entire lives, while we've been denied so much time. I love them dearly, but I want what they have."  
He enfolded her in his arms, controlling his output in the Force, and let her cry. "Our love is forever fixed," he told her, "and will not alter with time. It will bear this out."  
  
Time passed in silence, broken only by their breathing.  
Suddenly, Luke jerked back in a spasm. His eyes glazed as they focused on something upwards and to the right. Leia instinctively followed his line of sight, but only saw the bulkhead. She shifted her gaze back to his face, which seemed frozen in an expression of disbelief.   
"No ... no," he mumbled.  
He can't die now, she thought, I need him. "Luke? What is it? Are you OK?"  
He came back to himself in a subdued sob. "Oh, Leia! We're too late! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"  
An icy hand gripped her heart. "Han?" she rasped.  
Luke said nothing. The fear and apprehension radiated out of her like billows of intense heat. Leia's face contorted into a shadow of the agony that began to overtake every cell in her body.  
"You're wrong!" She shrieked, as she pushed him away. "I'd have felt it! I know I would have!"  
"Leia ..."  
"No!" She cut him off. "No, Luke. Maybe you saw, I don't know -- one possible future."  
Gently, but firmly he said, "I know what I felt was real. It's already happened. I -- "  
Again, she broke in. "Well, I don't know. Until I sense or see it for myself, it just ... it's not ..." she couldn't speak of it; not now. She stood still until she could control her trembling. Control your body, control your emotions; she admonished herself. Closing her eyes, she worked through Jedi exercises that would calm her. She needed her mind unencumbered. She had to prepare -- for the sight of Han's broken body. She squeezed her eyes tighter, "No! Clear. Calm. Peace."  
Luke watched her metamorphosis, adding what he could to help her through this crisis. But, when she opened her eyes, they were cold.  
"Idealists rarely survive. They're just taken advantage of."  
There was no emotion in her voice. It was as if she was commenting on the weather.  
Luke had to stop this before it irrevocably altered her. "How can you say that? It's what defeated Palpatine and the Ssi-ruuk; it's what brought me to you on the Death Star; it's what brings any one of us to the aide of another."  
"Exactly. It's what killed my father; it's what killed a lot of good pilots; it's what killed the Old Republic; it's what killed Han ..." For a moment, her eyes softened and threatened to loose the icy veneer she had raised, but her will power regained its strength and the mask held.   
Luke stepped close to her. Tenderly, he said, "Billions are alive today because of the idealism that is at the core of the New Republic. It was in the heart of the Rebellion, and it's in yours as well. It's part of what Han loved most in you. Don't betray that love. Don't betray that vital part of yourself."  
His keen eyes searched hers. "There are many who look to you for hope, including your children."  
That's what broke her resolve. She sat down heavily on the seat of the booth.   
"What do I tell them? That their father died for what he believed in?" She shook her head. "Small consolation. It never replaces what's been ripped out of you."  
Her head hurt, and she was so tired. Once again, everyone would end up scrutinising her pain while she maintained outward dignity for their sakes. She knew she had to be strong for her children, but she was so weary of being the mother of the Republic.  
"The next few years will be a delicate and vulnerable time for Anakin and the twins." Luke was saying. "They'll need you to help them. They must not give into anger or seek revenge, or we'll lose them."  
"I'm not a trained Jedi, Luke." She reminded him, haggardly. "They know more about the Force than I do. How am I suppose to guide them?"  
"Through your strength. What they need is a role-model; something I never really had." Luke paused. A flash of memory intruded. For a moment, he relived his spiritual rape at the realisation that his mentor, Obi-wan Kenobi, lied to him about one of the most important things in his life, while the monster he despised most told him the truth. The trust had been crushed. What Obi-wan told him about his father played as much a part in the destiny Luke chose for himself as Leia's long-ago plea for help did. That truth forced him to forge his own path, arcing away from his father's, away from Ben's.   
Luke later realised that Ben was trying to protect and keep him from running to a father that still lived. Nevertheless, Ben had betrayed his young protégé. There had to have been a better way. It was something Luke hadn't thought about in a long time.  
"Whatever you do, don't lie to them. Be strong, as you always have been, in your ability to endure. You've been through so much, yet you still maintain your optimism. You still work for what's right. Through it all, there's a grace about you. That's what guides and inspires us all."  
  
  
CHAPTER SIX  
  
The navicomputer flashed a warning as the Second Team task force flew through hyperspace. Han Solo flipped the indicator off and flashed his old friend a knowing look.  
"Here we go again," he commented to Chewbacca.  
He opened the channel to Comm Band Beta. "Blue Flight, this is Blue Leader. We're coming up on Rasianar. Close up on me and stick tight to you wingman."  
Blue Seven broke into the pause. "Any word from First Team, Boss?"  
"No. And I don't like it." Han said grimly. "We don't know what's waiting for us up there, but it probably ain't friendly. Prepare to form up for Attack Pattern 'R' -- that's A.P. Rancor. Confirm."  
All ships confirmed the order as they emerged into normal space -- and into the debris of the First Team.  
"Evasive!" Han barked into the open channel.   
At the same instant an anti-grav cradle slammed hard into the Falcon. The impact disabled the shields and sent the ship careening into Blue Five. Chewie pulled hard at the controls to avoid the collision, but couldn't react fast enough. Neither could the A-Wing pilot, whose fighter exploded on impact, blowing shrapnel in all directions.  
The freighter bucked as part of its port-side structure was torn away. The surviving team members twisted and looped around to get clear of the carnage.  
"We've lost helm control!" Han screamed, as the floor lurched under him. He fought back waves of nausea. "Operating circuits are dead! "  
Chewie roared another grim status; negative functions on all backups and manual overrides. The interior lights flickered arhythmically then gave out, reducing the ship to darkness. Live wires undulated like snakes, popping and sparking with irregular coughs of power. The excised freighter started a slow roll toward Rasianar as the planet's gravity caught her and started to pull her down.  
Han's mind raced. There had to be some way out. Beside him, Chewie uttered staccato sounds from deep in his throat.  
"Escape pod?!" Han shouted over the conundrum of alarms, "Not if I can help it! I'm not leaving her!"   
The Wookie retaliated that the Falcon was dead already, and they would be too if they didn't abandon ship, but his attempts at reason were cut short when something bludgeoned them from below. Han's shoulder restraints bit into his flesh and then tore loose, ramming him face first into the control board. He felt the cartilage in his nose snap and a gush of blood spill over his upper lip, into his mouth.   
Stunned, he was vaguely aware of the two large paws picking him up and dragging him aft, toward the starboard escape pod. When they got there, however, it had been blasted off.  
Roaring in frustrated fury, Chewie dropped Han to the floor, ran to the first aid station, and threw the med-kit toward Han. Then, he ran to the weapon's cabinet and grabbed every blaster inside.  
Han began to float as the artificial gravity gave out. Fuzzily, he reflected that the inertial dampners must be shutting down.  
"What're ya doin'?" Han slurred.  
Chewie grumbled a clipped explanation as he worked. Han injected himself with a stim-shot. If his friend's crazy idea had even the slightest chance of working, it would need the two of them, clear-headed. He dabbed at the blood on his face with his shirt sleeve as he made his way back to the cockpit to salvage what he could. This is not going to be a smooth landing, he thought abjectly.  
  
"Blue Leader! This is Blue Seven, do you copy?!" Static was all that responded to Karm's frantic attempts at communication. What was left of Blue Flight had pulled up and regrouped outside the debris field.  
"I'm reading life signs but little power levels from her." Announced Blue Eight. "With that much damage, I don't see how she'll make it through entry-fall."  
Karm cut in, irritably, "Stick to business, Blue Eight! All fighters check in, and continue scanning for enemy ships."  
"This is Blue Six, checking in."  
"Blue Nine, off your port side. My starboard keel side engine's gone."  
"You going to make it, Venic?"  
"Yeah, I think so. I'll compensate and stick to your rear."  
"Blue Eight, checking in."  
Tight-lipped, Karm muttered, "We lost Blue Five." Taking a deep breath, he continued. "Blue Six, follow Blue Leader's projected trajectory and when they land, render what assistance you can."  
"Right, Boss." Blue Six confirmed.  
Karm's stomach knotted at the acknowledgement of his position. This was a lousy way to assume command.  
"Boss, I'm picking up another ship on my scope." Blue Eight cut into the silence. "It's not a hostile, I think."  
"Where --? Right. Switch to green grid scanning." Karm instructed. "Turn to point oh-three-two." The three A-Wings peeled off and plunged toward the blip.  
Karm checked his readings. The ship was adrift with minimal life-support. Dead in space. One weak life-sign, humanoid, showed aboard her. The A-Wings slowed their approach as the distance to the derelict narrowed. Karm recognised its markings. It was the Lady Luck. Lando Calrissian's ship. It was also the reason why the A-Wing-packed dreadnaught of First Team deviated from the plan in a fatal rescue attempt.  
  
Chewie finished draining the charge from the last blaster, and swam in the zero gravity over to where the manoeuvring thruster mechanisms were mounted. Ripping off the plate, he fished through the wiring until he felt the small cylindrical shape of the fuel intake valve. With his other paw, he formed a crude washer over the valve's opening with his first and second digits in an attempt to lessen the leak of fuel.   
His glow-rod illuminated the small area in which he worked in a sickly green luminescence; its wane light reflected grotesquely off of the bubbles from the escaped fuel that had formed in weightlessness. While part of his mind concentrated on the task, another part of him rationalised that it was futile. The blaster charges were not quite the right fuel for the job, there was no time to check for damage along the length of the equipment, and there was a good possibility that the irregular energy surges would sink or overload the triggering switch at a critical moment.   
Han desperately worked to reroute switches, his hands jerking back reflexively as sparks fluttered over the console and along the monofilaments. He risked a fast look out the view port at the damage the collision with the A-Wing caused. Cursing, Han tried to summon up anger to dampen the icy terror that clawed at his chest; a good sized chunk of the ship's port bow was missing. The only reason they hadn't decompressed and been sucked out into vacuum was because the automatic blast doors had slammed down in the nanoseconds before the concussion reached their controls.   
He plucked the hand held comlink as it floated by. His voice sounded shrill and ragged to his ears. "Chewie, we don't have a lot of time here! Get back to the cockpit and strap in! We're going in!"  
The Millennium Falcon rotated gracefully in the silence of space as she sank into the depths of air. Tiny flashes emitted briefly from her stern top and bow bottom thrusters, slowing her downward spiral and positioning the ship at an angle that Han hoped had sufficient incline to allow them to descend to the planet's surface without being charred to ashes. White hot flame licked the unshielded hull, turning the dying ship into a shooting star as it streaked across the planet's shadowed sky toward the event horizon.  
Han forced himself to clench the controls and yank them back, despite the unbearable heat that blistered his skin. He had to flatten the curve and glide the ship into some sort of landing, or all that would remain of them would be a smear on some worthless rock.  
Smoke started to pour from the superheated hull into the cockpit. Han's lungs began to hurt with the lack of oxygen, and he squirmed. Pressure started to build around his eardrums, and one hand went to his ear in an instinctive reaction.   
The ship jolted, and Chewie rapidly transferred command to his station. The Wookie forced every ounce of his considerable strength into controlling the ship. Chewie bellowed in panic, hyperventilating, even as his stomach lurched in the sensation of free fall.  
The next few seconds slowed to a crawl. Han looked to his co-pilot, his friend. Their eyes met briefly. There was so much that passed between them in that instant, that he would never be cognisant of it all. He turned to look out the view port at the blur of the surface that rose rapidly to take them, and thought of Leia's face.  
  
  
CHAPTER SEVEN  
  
A few minutes before they went to sub-light, Luke reached out with the Force to touch the minds of Blue Flight.   
Fear. Confusion. Sorrow. Disheartenment. All held in control through discipline.   
Then, there was something else. Surprise? Reacting swiftly, he brought the corvette out of hyperspace prematurely. The ship groaned with the strain, but they avoided the same fate as Blue Flight's First Team. The grey-brown planet hung suspended before them. Leia inhaled sharply as she read the readouts on the scanners. The comm channel crackled to life.   
"Unidentified Corvette. This is a restricted zone by order of the New Republic. State your identity and business."  
Standard procedure called for the use of code names upon entering an unknown situation. You never knew who was eavesdropping. Leia flipped opened the channel. "Blue Seven? This is Lelila 490898. Switch to Comm Band Alpha."   
There was a short pause, followed by a change in tone, "We confirm, President. Ma'am, we have been fired upon by what appears to be automated defensive systems on Rasianar itself. So far, we haven't detected hostility from any other source, although we're not ruling anything out at this time. As far a we can tell, the firing mechanisms are set to go off once a ship descends below a certain altitude. We seem safe where we are, at the moment."  
"Karm? This is Skywalker. We aren't picking up any settlements, or ruins for that matter. Are you sure the attacks came from the planet?"  
"Ohhh, yeah," came the cool response. "No doubt about that. We also located the Lady Luck. She's in bad shape, and so's the pilot. We can't pick him up in the A-Wings, can you assist?"  
"We're on our way. Receiving your co-ordinates, now."  
"Umm ... President, there is one other thing." There was an disquieting suspension, and Leia braced herself in the seat as if for impact. "The Millennium Falcon collided with Blue Five when we first got here. She was badly damaged. She, uh, crashed landed on Rasianar at Latitude 38°54'N, Longitude 77°00'13"W. I sent in Blue Six to help, but she got shot up enough to make landing impossible. I just sent her to Perimeter Base Three ... I'm sorry we couldn't do more."  
  
Groggily, Lando opened his eyes. Moisture rich oxygen drifted down from a portable combat med-unit housed above him. He inhaled deeply, taking great pleasure in the ability to breathe at all. Silently, he thanked a pantheon of omnipotent guardians some race or other worshipped for getting him out alive. His sprained wrist no longer bothered him, and he was comfortable and warm. Although, he amended, a nice cup of spiked stim tea would warm him up just right and clear some of the fog that hung in his brain. Where was he, anyway?  
"Oh. I see that you are awake, sir." Threepio surmised.  
Oh no, Lando thought, of all the things to wake up to. Well, at least he knew who rescued him. "What's going on, Threepio?" He croaked. "And could you get me something to drink? My throat's parched."  
"Certainly, sir." The droid analysed the two requests and considered the need for liquid ingestion a priority over importation of information. Shortly, he returned with a glass of water. Lando looked at it as if he had just been handed Bantha urine, but as the droid helped him into a sitting position, he drank the bland liquid greedily.  
"Please drink in sips, sir. While I am not a medical droid, it is my understanding that, given your recent experience, you may develop stomach cramps if you ingest too much too quickly."  
Lando, as usual, ignored the droid and finished the last gulp. Threepio lowered him back to the pillow. Vaguely, Lando wondered if the droid was adept at giving massages as he seemed to be at nursing.  
"In response to your first question, sir, we are presently above Rasianar. Master Luke and Mistress Leia are in the cockpit and are about to commence navigating us through the planet's automatic defensive systems. Master Luke believes he will be able to anticipate each shot from any of the weaponry through the Force and, thereby, guide us to a safe landing."  
Threepio finished adjusting the straps that would hold Lando in place during Luke's crazy piloting and moved to do the same to himself in an adjacent bed. Lando's sluggish mind rang belated warning bells as he registered what he was just told.   
"Why are we even landing? Why aren't we on our way back to Coruscant?"  
The droid hesitated for a fraction of time before answering, and shifted position in an impressive display of humanistic body language. Lando had a very bad feeling about this.  
  
* * *  
  
Brother and sister ran to the mangled wreck of the Falcon. The old freighter was almost unrecognisable as it lay twisted; half buried in the earth. A debris trail fanned out behind it; a mixture of metal scraps and chunks of rock the ship had shorn off of outcroppings as it plummeted the final few meters to plow into the surface.  
The main entrance was inaccessible; the hatch having been warped and fused shut. Leia ran to the bow and looked up at the cockpit that had snapped in an unnatural position above the upper hull. She could see only the ceiling where the reflected sunlight from the control board hit. The rest was dark and coldly silent. Luke grabbed her hand, coiled himself, and sprung up with her onto the hull. Carefully, but swiftly, she made her way toward the cockpit's view ports. Leia heisted for a moment, looking back at him, but then turned and hurried the rest of the way in.   
Luke froze, his eyes not obeying the command to turn away from the grisly scene on the other side of the window.   
Han's face ... his face.  
  
Leia's body was a solid mass of anguish. Her heart burned with every beat. It was a useless piece of flesh now, and she wished it would just stop. Her head fell back; eyes vacant; mouth open as if to scream -- but no sound emerged.  
With preternatural soundlessness, Luke left her to mourn alone.  
  
Lando leaned against the hatch frame, and watched the black-clad figure approach -- a shadow of a man. Something irretrievably lost. Not wanting to see the expression on the Jedi's face, knowing it would mirror his own, he turned away.  
  
Luke was half way down the corridor to the cockpit when he was met by Artoo and Threepio.  
The little astromech droid had been scanning the surrounding area and had located Chewbacca several hundred meters behind the wreck. Without a word, Luke pivoted and ran.  
... A scrap in a field of waste. Breathing heavily, he squatted next to his friend. The closest medical facilities were on Perimeter Base Three. If he were to heal Chewie enough to survive transport, the Jedi would have to cease protectively filtering the Force. Apprehensive, he let the barricades fall ...  
  
Numbly, Leia edged her way down the side of the ship; her entire mind focused on finding hand-holds. She had almost reached the ground when a stinging wind caught and tossed her on her back. Through the tempest, she thought she heard someone scream.  
Leia!  
Luke?  
Get ... anti-grav ... sled.   
His mental contact had included much more, this time. Within a flicker, she felt as though she had been pushed through a dark glass window. Every nerve, every muscle, strained to the confines of endurance. It was hot. So hot. The air was thick; difficult to draw breath. Her chest felt like it was being crushed. Something quite different coursed its way like a living thing throughout her body. Hunting. Vast in its intoxicating alchemy.   
From a great distance, the analytical part of her punched its way into the raw emotions the link induced; was this how Luke perceived the Force? The other sensations -- they must be manifestations of his illness.  
Then something clamped down, and it was over.   
  
* * *  
  
The corvette hung in geosynchronous orbit over the Falcon. Leia's thumb hovered over the firing control. Staring with a fierce sorrow at the magnified view of the metallic pyre, she set a torch to the kindling.  
  
A single proton torpedo blazed unerringly toward its target, like a descending screeching Valkyrie sent to collect the soul trapped below.   
A shot fired out from one of the defensive entrenchments, but veered off suddenly, as if it had been flicked like an insect by an unseen hand. At the table in the corvette's common area, Luke sighed and rested his head on his arms.   
The torpedo continued its course toward a gleaming object in the midst of a desolated planet. Deep into its heart of fire, the blaze embraced bone and metal, twisting and twirling in abandoned union. Sailing high above the featureless wastes, blackened smoke swathed the ashes of Han Solo.  
  
Leia blackened the view screen. "Goodbye, Beloved."  
  
* * *  
  
"I know the pain you're feeling. I wish I could lessen it for you."   
The Wookie's expression crumbled as he stared at hospital's white ceiling, replaying every second of the crash over and over. Where would he go, now?  
Luke's left hand, the flesh and bones one, gently rested against his old friend's chest. The fur there was still damp and sticky from the bacta treatments. It would take weeks to wash out, but at least Chewbacca had those weeks.  
"Years ago, when Han wasn't sure he'd survive the carbonite process, he asked you to look after Leia. In Han's name, and for myself, I'm asking you to continue your Life Debt. Leia's strength will have to go to the children and to the State. She won't leave much for herself to fall back on." In a tiny voice, Luke added, "I can't be there for her or the kids."   
For the first time since they left Rasianar, Chewbacca regarded the resigned man, and knew he did not grieve alone. He rumbled a sequence of barks which Threepio, who had been keeping a discreet distance from the pair, dutifully translated.   
"He said, sir, that he knows you are ill and can smell death on you. He also said he feels as though he failed Han, and that he fears failing Han's family if he stays. Oh dear, oh dear," the droid interjected, "will this wretchedness ever cease?"  
Ignoring him, Luke held Chewie's eyes. "You did not fail anyone." He said firmly. "Maybe all those years of cheating luck has finally caught up to us." Tears rolled freely down his cheeks. "If anyone failed, it's me. I wasn't fast enough or powerful enough." He bowed his head in sorrow for so many losses. "It's easy to die. Living is the hardest task."  
The image of Han's face, frozen in an expression of incredulity, forced its way behind the shield in the depths of Luke's mind. Confronted with the image of his own mortality, all the primal fears and cultured regrets burst forth in unstoppable urgency, belying his statement.   
In a shaky voice he whispered, "I'm scared," and his faith shrivelled.  
  
  
CHAPTER EIGHT  
  
Leia sat alone, restless, in the pilot's chair in the docked corvette. Her large brown eyes looked beyond the faint light from distant suns, as a rising feeling of unfulfillment centred in her thoughts. She had achieved the highest measurements of accomplishments in her society and, she believed, also in herself; so, she couldn't understand the root of this feeling. She went through a mental checklist of why she should feel complete. Throughout her career, she had successfully challenged all forms of political oppression; from the first time she met Senator Palpatine to her acceptance of the responsibilities of Head of State. Despite enormous obstacles that would have defeated most other individuals, she emerged victorious -- her morals in tact. In her private life, she had raised three children to the ideals of self-confidence and philanthropy. She could take pride in the fact that part of who they were now, as young adults, was due to her. Granted, they were their own personalities, and she had had help parenting. Luke enhanced their development in the harmony of mind and body in accordance with the Force, while Han kept their feet on the ground.  
She bowed her head. Had it been a week already?  
The comm channel chimed.  
"Yes? What is it?" She asked tiredly.  
"I'm sorry to disturb you, President," an older voice began. It sounded like Lieutenant Commander Dehner in Communications. "Would you like a transmission of Blue Flight's final report? They're on their way back to Coruscant."  
"Patch it through. And contact Luke for me. Tell him to meet me here in two hours."  
"Aye, Ma'am."  
  
Between breaks at the base, Blue Flight had completed extensive sensor sweeps of the Uode System and could find no trace of any additional threat. The report stated that, to the best of their equipment's parameters, Rasianar housed thirty-one defensive cannons. It was unknown how many were functional. Only the tips of the turrets protruded from the dust-swept wasteland.  
The Isolationists hadn't even reached the surface of the planet. Han had been sent to rescue ghosts. One life saved at the cost of many; for the cause of idealism. It had betrayed her for the last time. If those she would seek retribution from had long since vanished from existence, then she would annihilate all traces of their legacy of desolation. She vowed that they would dissolve from the pages of history.  
Leia turned toward the sound of a muffled rasp within the cabin's shadows. "Given the circumstances, under Section 12, subsection (a) of the New Republic Constitution, I am recommissioning you in the New Republic Fleet. In due consideration of your extensive combat experience, I am giving you the field commission of General." She turned slightly to the ship's recorder. "So noted in the Official State Logs, this date, Leia Organa Solo, Chief of State."  
She paused to turn the recorder off, and expected Luke to protest her orders, or at least question her motives. But he remained mute.  
"General Skywalker, Rogue Flight is scheduled to arrive at Perimeter Base Three at 1800 hours. According to the orders Rogue Flight sent us, the Senate agreed to continue the original plan to send the X-Wings here. The orders typically make use of stock phraseology throughout, but I know certain council members are more interested in utilising this weaponry for personal reasons. The welfare of the Republic is the last thing on the minds of, oh, I'd say at least a third of the membership."  
She snorted in contempt, and continued the formal debriefing. "The dreadnought has extra X-Wings in its hanger bay. I want you to take Wedge Antilles to the planetary surface for a closer look at those cannons. The Senate can rot! I want those things completely destroyed. Employ any means necessary to this end, but if your effective fighting force is significantly reduced, you are to return here to avoid any further useless slaughter. At that point, we will consider our options. This is in accordance with correct military procedure, and you will have no personal discretion in the matter.  
"Also, there will be no conflict in rank. Wedge knows you are heading this mission. Not that I expect there to be any trouble on this front in any case."  
Leia's voice softened as she continued in a more familiar tone. "Wedge was in the middle of the yearly field experience requirement anyway, so he's not being pulled from office duties. I doubt he misses shuffling data cards all day long. I'm glad this worked out, Luke, because you'll need a highly skilled pilot who can match your manoeuvres while flying up your tailpipes, and Wedge is still the best. And I want someone with you ..." In case your illness overtakes you, she completed the sentence to herself.  
She knew he heard her internal voice; but again, her brother said nothing. His silence disturbed her more than anything he could have said.  
He purposely came forward, then, to sit in the co-pilot's chair, and told her, "You should try to visit Chewbacca. It would help both of you through this."  
She nodded. "Yes, I know. I've been meaning to go, but I just haven't had --". She stopped herself. "It's just that he was the last to see Han alive. It would be ... awkward."  
"Do you blame him for Han's death?"  
"Of course not!" She protested, a little too quickly. "What more could he have done? I wouldn't have thought of that trick with the blasters."  
He held her eyes, and she looked away.   
"How much more awkward will it be while you transport him to the med centre on Coruscant? How do you plan to avoid him in a ship of this size?"  
  
  
CHAPTER NINE  
  
Luke's voice came over the speakers. "This is Rogue Leader," the twenty-year-old in Luke whooped in reawakened excitement. "All wings have checked in. We've cleared base perimeter and are set to make the jump to hyperspace."  
"We show you clear Rogue Flight," Dehner confirmed. "Good luck, and may the Force be with you."  
  
* * *  
  
Leia took a few deep breaths before turning the corner to enter the infirmary. She saw that Chewbacca was sleeping, and motioned Threepio to remain quiet. Artoo simply swivelled his dome and monitored her approach.  
Lando was awake in the next bed, and she smiled at him as she seated herself on his mattress. He smiled back, then grew serious as he whispered, "How're you holding up?"  
"To tell you the truth," she whispered back, "I don't really know. As well as can be expected, I guess; although, I've been doing some serious thinking about the direction my life is taking."  
When she didn't elaborate, Lando's curiosity overwrote any discretion, and he prompted her to continue.  
"I've been thinking about resigning the Presidency."  
Before Lando's shock could wear off enough to probe her decision, Leia changed the topic, and he followed her lead. "Have the droids been here the whole time?"  
He looked over at the metal sentinels. "Yeah. Apparently Artoo is having a guilt complex over something Threepio commented on when you picked Luke up on La -- Le -- something. He's been watching over Chewie like a Jawa over mechanicals."   
He shrugged. "There hasn't been a whole lot of quality entertainment around here, especially when the tin twins are the sole providers."  
Looking pensive, he mused, "You know, there might be some money to be made there; bringing culture to the outback."  
She allowed herself a stifled snicker, grateful for Lando's efforts in small talk. "Don't you ever give up?"  
Raising his eyebrows, he retorted, "Not when there's credits dancing in front of me."   
"You mean 'carrots'."  
Amused, he began to protest that not all his business ventures suffered incredibly bad luck, when movement caught his eye. He nodded at Leia in Chewie's direction.   
The battered Wookie looked at his friend's mate mournfully. He had dreaded this moment. How was he to explain himself? How could he atone for what happened? How could he have failed so horribly?  
"It's all right, Chewie," she was saying in a soothing voice. "You are not to blame. It is important to me, as it would be to Han, that you know there was nothing you could have done to change what happened."  
He bellowed in anguish. A haunting sound. Leia leaned forward and gently hugged him, resting her cheek against his; and in so doing, Han's two best friends were released.  
  
  
* * *  
  
Rogue Flight held up in a loose formation well above Rasianar's greyish yellow atmosphere. Luke knew that he and Wedge needed to succeed. The soft sand would muffle proton torpedo explosions from raid runs with little, if any, damage to the cannons as a result. Additionally, the snub fighters would have to breach the planet's defensive barrier to accurately aim their lasers. No, the two of them needed to figure out the technology behind the automated firing system and disarm it. He would not use the other X-Wings as desperate instruments of a hopeless victory.   
Wedge Antilles sucked the percentage of power from his rear deflectors to double those in front. The easiest solution to this mission would be the ability to interlink all thirty-one cannons to one location, and disarm them with a flick of one switch; if not, they'd be there for a while. The thought of eating stale emergency rations while hopping from cannon to cannon made Wedge's stomach grumble in anticipated protest.  
"Rogue Three, you set?" Luke's voice filled the cockpit from the open speakers.  
"I'm right with you, Boss," he responded.  
"Wedge, you know the routine: lock S-foils in attack mode. We'll be going in full throttle, so stick tight and watch yourself."  
As the wings of his fighter split into its name-sake deployment, Wedge smiled ruefully. Almost the exact words had been spoken between the two men twenty-eight years earlier as they prepared for their attack run down the throat of the Death Star. You never forget your first combat experience. Oddly, part of the lyrics to an old song about the Battle of Yavin popped into his head:  
  
If we all look back on the history of the past  
We can just tell where we are.  
  
"Luke, I'm a little concerned about those cannons."  
Wedge heard a short chuckle. Obviously, his friend was replaying the same memories he was. On cue Luke paraphrased himself, "You worry about keeping up. I'll worry about the cannons. Seriously, Wedge, don't try to take any of them out on the way down. You'll have your hands full as it is."  
Luke took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and readjusted his grip on the joystick. "We're going in," he declared in a weird voice as he commenced his dive toward the surface.  
  
"I don't get it," Wedge said as they cautiously made their way on foot toward one of the submerged cannon turrets. "If the air defences were that well built, why wouldn't they have any functioning ground weaponry?"  
"Who says they don't?" Luke commented, as he unhooked his lightsaber. "This turret might be booby-trapped or some machine might be lumbering after us right now; just very slowly, leaking lubricants all over the dirt."  
In one smooth movement, the ancient weapon ignited with a tell-tale snap-hiss, and the amputated gun barrel rolled away from them.  
Wedge looked side-ways at him. "You know, you have the strangest sense of humour sometimes."  
"It's been a strange few months." Luke gave his friend a once over appraisal. "Maybe I should cut this hole a little wider."  
"Thanks. Appreciate it. I can squeeze through just fine," and proceeded to do just that.   
The meagre light from their glow rods illuminated a control room of some sort. The equipment looked grey; dead. Wedge wasn't sure where to begin. There were some components he thought he recognised or could at least figure out their specific function, but he was not a technical anthropologist. Pulling out the visual recorder, he began transmitting to the dreadnought above them.   
"Captain, are you receiving this?"  
"There's some minor tracking problems, but it's clear enough," came the reply. "I'll hand you over to Erush."  
The Captain's rough baritone was replaced by the programmer's young sounding, light voice. "General Antilles? How can I help you?"  
He conferred with the programmer about removing, or erasing, or corrupting the operating system somehow. As the discussion progressed, Wedge grew more and more frustrated with the programmer's explanations of why they would have to study and understand the system before they knew how to shut it down.   
While Wedge argued over the comlink, Luke slipped below, into the turret's belly.  
  
The hand holds down the pit were roughly cut into strange, smooth, stone. It felt slimy and warm to the touch. Within the Force, all was blackness and vacancy.  
At length, the glow rod illuminated its own undulating mimic. Water.   
Luke hesitated. Of course there was technology designed to function in such an environment. Perhaps the designers intended to protect the most delicate part of the operating system through depth, but encountered the water table before they could dig any deeper. It still didn't make sense. Why would they go through the trouble of installing anything in water when it was much easier to dig a chamber higher up? Maybe there was nothing but water down here. He had to be sure.   
Like the stone above him, the water was also warm. It matched his body temperature to an extent that, as he submerged and swam from the last hand hold, he could physically feel nothing around him. It relaxed him, and his rein on Force began to drift ...   
He was startled awake into absolute night. He could not have been asleep for more than a second or two, but the resultant panic was enough to disorient him and drive his heart into a painful rhythm. He had to get air!  
Calming himself, he flipped the lightsaber on to get his bearings; instead, he confronted a face that almost touched his own. Something in his mind's recess stopped him from striking out at the apparition. He could not fight. Primal instincts took possession of his limbs as he kicked wildly away from it, exhaling the last of his breath in a bizarre scream of terror. He changed directions erratically, fearing that he would see that face loom before him again; fearing that he swam further from the pit that led to the surface ... to the light ... away from here.  
The clinging weight of his garments seemed to pull him down. His vision began to darken around the edges. He could feel the oppressive weight of liquid settling in his lungs; aching to expel it, retching in impotent reflex. He knew he would drown. He didn't even feel the hands that plucked at his collar.  
  
There was motion. His upper torso dangled upside down across a shoulder, swaying with every step.  
There was sound. A man's voice. The steady pulse of dripping water -- there was something about water ... but there was none in the desert ... it always rained in the city ...  
There was smell. Sickly sweet. Putrefying fungi. His lightsaber lit only a meter around it as he drew deeper into the tree's grotesque cave ... the hiss of the breath mask ... confronting ...  
There was touch -- a tingling sensation that morphed into pain as his chest heaved in convulsive inhalations.  
Coughing, he knew that he lived. With that thought, the present coalesced and all the memories of the horror lurking in the watery depths gained immediacy. He began to struggle. He had to escape!  
"Hold still!" A familiar voice cautioned. "We're almost at the top."  
He was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor over the lip of the pit. Opening his eyes, Luke looked at his friend's strained face.  
"We've got to get out of here, now!" He intended to shout, but all he could manage was an arid wheeziness.  
Wedge panted, and looked at him quizzically.  
"No time! Just ... help me up."  
Wedge stole a quick look into the pit, straining to see what could possibly unnerve a veteran and a Jedi with such fierce intensity; but all remained dark and silent. Yanking Luke to his feet, they ran out into the dingy daylight, collapsing in the dirt after only a few steps.  
Luke looked back to search for the face -- knowing there was something artificial about it -- certain he would react differently out here in the light. As he watched, the open maw of the mutilated cannon turned to aim at them.  
The power of the Force drew him, and surged with his emotions. He did not have time to moralise which side of the Force submerged him. It didn't matter. Light and Dark; Good and Evil; all were part of the whole.   
His reaction was as blindingly fast as it was total. He released the full range of the power, and thrust at the cannon. The entire length of it exploded; its domed cap shooting into the sky; ripped cables whipping beneath it. It looked like some lunatic jelly fish fleeing a frenzied attacker. The structures below disintegrated upon themselves and then were blown outward in a brutal, airless, torrent. Water from the subterranean chasm burst forth in a geyser that melted into steam, even as it climbed. Chunks and bits of matter, components stripped to their basic level, rained around them. Luke didn't know if he could suspend the power enough to bring it under control. It spun out of him in directionless spirals, even as it fed on the urgency within.  
Wedge shielded his head with one arm, and half dragged Luke to a safer distance with the other. He could hear another explosion in the distance.   
Luke fell back and curled up on his side, whimpering. Dumbstruck, Wedge looked at his friend for the first time with uneasiness. White noise from his comlink shook him from his daze.  
"Say again. I'm not reading you."  
"... read -- ... --losions all over ... --et! You ... it!"  
Wedge glanced down at Luke, who vented a series of liquidy coughs, and then lay still. Worried, he knelt beside the inert form and felt for a pulse. It was unbelievably rapid, maybe 140 to 150 beats per minute; and then he saw blood begin to drain from Luke's mouth.  
Wedge hollered into the comlink, "Medical emergency!"  
  
  
CHAPTER TEN  
Coruscant  
  
The fall of Rasianar besieged Luke's dreams in disjointed flashes of what seemed like memories. When awake, resting uncomfortably on the raised bed, his intellect worked in desperation to interpret the images. If he could make sense of it all, the nightmares would stop; and he could sleep. He could endure no more.  
Over the next few days, between visitors and therapy, the imagery slowly unravelled to reveal an ancient, horrific, history of nihilism.   
Rasianar had once been known by another name; that name existed only in the dark stories told to frighten children. Time and imagination had embellished the stories in mysticism, but the truth at the base of them was horrifying in its implications. It was under that name that abominations were conceived and utilised.  
The cannons Luke had destroyed existed only as a final line of feeble defence. Rasianar waged war literally on a psychological level. Its inhabitants had developed chemical computers that utilised silicon based DNA-like units for instruction and storage, coupled with nano technology, computer technology, and organic components. It could grow circuitry and build the structures necessary to complete its programmed directives. It was a machine capable of altering form. It was a weapon designed as a calculated bluff, and its use had driven both sides of the war insane. It was all that had survived of that society.  
His breath caught in shocked realization: it was the face in the water.   
It had gouged out a primal memory of fear from Luke's mind and used it as a weapon against him. But in so doing, it had left something of itself behind.  
  
* * *   
  
The door announcer chimed and Luke sat up a little higher against the pillows on his bed. "Come."   
The door opened and his niece and nephews entered. "Hi, Luke!" The twins had dispensed with the 'uncle' part when they began their Jedi training at the praxeum. Although Anakin was now enrolled as well, he never failed to refer to Luke with his familial title.  
"Hi, guys." Luke responded. "Well, yes I've looked better, but at least I combed my hair! You know, you're going to have to tune down your broadcasts or even non-adepts will read your thoughts."  
"That's why I can't get a date!" Jacen commented, with dramatic realisation, "they read my mind, see themselves as wall art in every pubescent's bedroom, and run away screaming."  
"Jacen!" Jaina chided. "Well, you certainly won't follow in Mother's footsteps, Mr. Subtle Tact!"  
"Who says I want to, Ms. Morality Patrol?"  
Luke chuckled. Their banter always reminded him of the early days in Han and Leia's relationship.  
Han.  
He cast his gaze away from the kids. He could feel their grief and pain at their father's loss, yet they were trying to cheer their uncle despite it. They had matured faster than he had at their age. "I'm so proud of you all."  
He spread his arms to them and the twins came immediately into his embrace. Luke looked over their heads at Anakin, who stood sombrely against the back wall a moment longer, then joined the others on the bed. They remained like that a long time; each drawing warmth, strength, and love from the other; each drawing on memories that would make Han live again in their minds.  
Finally, Luke said, "Your father loved you, you know."  
Anakin lifted his head to him and said, "I just wish he'd said it out loud more often."  
  
After the twins left, Anakin remained and sat on the edge of the bed, saying nothing, staring out the window. Luke shrouded his mind out of respect for the young man's struggles to sift through his feelings without distraction.  
"I see a lot of you three in us." Anakin began. "Jacen looks like Dad and acts like him sometimes. Jaina is sort of a cross between my parents in looks. She has Mom's eyes and Dad's nose, but she thinks like Mom.  
"When I look in the mirror, I see you." He turned to face Luke. "I could constantly sense your presence for as long as I can remember. Whenever I wanted, I could brush against your place in the Force. It was ... comforting. It was as if you were always there for me. And when you visited Coruscant, I could go to you for things I don't think Dad could understand. You've been as much of a father to me as Dad was."  
Luke's vision started to blur with tears. "Oh, Anakin. That means more to me than anything else."   
Embarrassed at his uncle's gratitude, Anakin turned back to the view outside the window. "I don't want you to die. I've been thinking, if all the Jedi students pool our abilities together, maybe we could heal you."  
Luke placed a hand gently on the boy's shoulder. "Anakin ..."  
Blue eyes locked on his. "Couldn't we?!"   
Then everything crashed to the surface. The youth angrily wiped the unbidden tears from his cheeks. His face rapidly lost all expression and took on a stony appearance. Luke's touch tightened. "No! Stop it! You can't shut down your feelings like that. If you do," his voice became very quiet, "If you do, you will always be alone. You'll use violence just to have contact with another. "  
Anakin stared at him, not quite understanding. "I thought you said anger and fear lead to the dark side."  
"So I did," the older man said, "but they should not be entirely suppressed." Anakin's puzzled expression did not alter.  
Luke sighed in a wheeze and coughed, reflexively trying to dislodge the fluid from his chest. His face turned red from the effort, as his scared nephew handed him a cloth. "Uncle! Are you all right? What can I do?"  
Luke waved his free hand negatively. When he could speak, his voice rasped. "There's nothing you ... you can do. I want you to really understand that."   
He groaned as exquisite agony seemed to burn through his chest. His hand quivered as he injected himself with an analgesic. At last, he took a careful breath, and his traumatised body relaxed.  
"I don't want any heroics done to save me. I've lived enough for several life-times. I've been a part of some of the most exciting events in recent history. I've even been lucky enough to fall in love, twice -- well, three times, if you count the innocent crush I had for your mother before we knew we were siblings." He smiled shyly. "That should be enough to satisfy anyone."  
"Then, why do you feel like you didn't finish everything?"  
There it was. Ever since he was diagnosed, or maybe before then, that sentiment of inaccomplishment dominated his thoughts. "I think I was so obsessed with anything that could lead to the dark side of the Force, especially when I saw the results of its desolation in the Emperor and in my father, that I automatically clamped down on any negative emotions in me. At one time, I ended up suppressing everything I felt. I became less and less human ... a mind without a heart. It cut me off from others."  
Luke stopped and peered into Anakin's eyes. "I couldn't possibly be intimate with another. Not the way I was. And that was what was incomplete about me -- I needed to share my life, everything about me, with someone I loved. Then Callista came into my life. For a while, I was happy. Everything opened up within me. And when she left," he shrugged, "I hadn't learned a thing. I slammed everything up so I wouldn't be hurt like that again. It's only been in these last few months, especially with Mythra, that I've been able to gain understanding of myself and accept that even where there's pain, that where life is. So, I accept that fact that I'll never see her again. I accept the fact that my Jedi abilities can no longer stop the disease that's killing me. Do you understand?"  
Anakin exhaled noisily. "Sort of."  
Luke thought for a while, then said, "You have to acknowledge and experience your feelings, but don't let them control you. It's very hard to define that line between discipline and abandonment. There is no path you can follow. It's something you have to search for within yourself. That's difficult, but it's also the most exciting thing about life."  
"But I need help! I can't do this alone." Anakin protested. "There must be somewhere I can start; someone who'll get me back on track if I lose my way."  
"In some ways, I wish it were that easy." Luke said, wearily.   
He had looked to Ben Kenobi for so many things in his young adulthood, but ultimately was left alone to find his own path. "Each of us is unique. There's been nothing like you in the history of the universe, so there is no Master, no Way, that can possibly tell you how to proceed. The goal is the fulfilment of your own potential, and no one but you can know what that is and how to achieve it."  
Anakin sat quietly in contemplation. After a time, he pulled up a chair beside the bed and held his uncle's hand. "You're tired. Rest now."  
"Could you stay with me for a while?" Luke asked, "I don't want to be alone."   
  
A few hours later, while Luke slept, Anakin quietly left the suite and walked to the garden he had helped to build. He had taken it upon himself to tend to it while his uncle was confined to bed.  
"What's the point? He's abandoning it!" He told the air, "And me."   
He dropped his dry face into his hands, but looked up in humiliation as he sensed his sister's and brother's presence in the garden. "Anakin?" Jaina's voice was full of concern.  
He had not wanted them to see him like this, but his grief had brought them to him. Hiding his feelings now would be pointless.   
"I feel so alone."  
She sat down next to him and put a comforting arm around him. "I'm always with you."  
"Me, too, buddy." Jacen added.  
  
Leia woke from restless sleep to the sound of laboured breathing. In the bed next to her, Luke was fumbling for the respirator. She sprang from the chair and held the mask over his mouth. Although he seemed to gradually improve, he remained fidgety. Her eyes met his, and she knew it was time.  
His voice reverberated clearly in her mind. "Get Chewie to help me to the garden. I don't want to die here."  
  
In the early morning, the garden took on a surreal quality. Dew trickled down a myriad of colourful petals. The upper branches of miniature trees rustled their leaves in unison with a westward air current. The wispy tendrils of a light mist danced around the two humans sitting on the stone, one leaning on the other's strength.  
Leia held Luke against her; rocking him gently to music only she could hear. He listened to the dull roar of his heart as it pounded arhythmically in his chest. He watched the shallow ghosts of his exhalations as they escaped into the chilled air. Then his breath caught in shocked recognition as he looked beyond Leia's shoulder to see a figure emerge from the fog.  
Mythra smiled at him as she shifted slightly and her features shimmered. She looked as Leia had around the time of the Battle of Endor. It was the face in the water: the infant terror of separation; radiant and beautiful now, through adult eyes.  
Quietly, she said, "I love you, Luke. I was never there for you in life; I am here for you now. Come to me. Let me cool your suffering and ease you in peace."  
Maybe he was hallucinating. It did not matter to him. He realized now that his past, not antiquity, held the answer to the questions of 'why'. He reached out a trembling hand to her. As their fingertips touched, he could feel her despair, regret, fear, and a sense of raped naïveté. The encroaching oblivion held complete lucidity before him. He could release her. "I forgive you, Mother."  
  
Leia whipped her head around, straining her eyes at the point where her brother had been staring. She saw nothing. When she turned back, Luke Skywalker was dead.  
  
* * *  
  
Leia stood alone in Luke's garden. It had been weeks before she could bring herself to this place. She absently turned her wedding ring around her finger as unwanted images of the last time she was here intruded upon her thoughts.   
There was physically nothing left of her brother. Moments after death, his tortured body had simply disappeared. The catharsis that came with the rituals of internment were therefore denied to her. Again.   
  
Lost in decades of incarcerated mourning, she listlessly yanked on the weed nearest her. Holding the invasive plant up to eye level, she stared at its dangling roots.   
Roots.   
A smile crept onto her lips as insight showed her a path that she had previously been too enmeshed in routine to consider. Here was a platform off which she could eventually challenge and discover all within her. The future that lay before her was unknown, and she felt young because of it. For the first time in years, the brilliance of her soul unmasked itself through her eyes and lit up her face in untamed exuberance. The idealism that was at the heart of everything she fought for wooed her anew, as a gentle lover. It was, she thought, her completion. Luke was right. It was what drove her heart, and her disloyalty to it almost extinguished her self-identity. At last, she would achieve the adventure.  
  
Hearing movement behind her, she turned her head to see Jaina, Jacen, and Anakin watching her. Without commenting, they each moved off to different parts of the garden and began tending to it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
Leia let her Robes of State drop in a puddle of fine silks at her feet. Stepping over them, she slipped into a comfortable pair of pants and a loose tunic, and sat before her dresser mirror. Removing all of the pins that held her long hair up in an elaborate style, she let it drop, then brushed it out so that it fell over shoulders to the middle of her back. The last time she let her hair hang naturally, was the night before Bail Organa had introduced his young charge to the Senate; the night before she enmeshed herself in a political career.  
Now that the makeup was removed, the face that looked back at her had a few more wrinkles than she'd like to count, but it held a vibrancy that had been missing for a long time. This was the right decision. She knew it instinctively. From this starting point, she would get the tools she needed to blaze her own path -- away from Bail; away from Luke; away from Han. It would let her spirit run free.  
There was one thing left to do, a symbolic cleansing of widowhood. With a little tug, she removed her wedding band and placed it on the dresser. Leaving the suite for the last time without a backward glance, she went to join her waiting children at the docking bay.  
  
* * *  
  
Jacen, Jaina, and Anakin sat with their mother and the other students at the Jedi Academy in a circle on the Massassi Temple floor. As was customary, the new adepts introduced themselves and briefly explained why they sought to become Jedi Knights.  
The instructor then nodded to Leia in turn. She set her jaw and said simply, "I am Leia. I have an obligation to my children, but especially to myself, to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi."  
  
  
  
the end 


End file.
